


Just Let This Feeling Carry Me On

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Give Me The News [12]
Category: St. Elsewhere
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 11:34:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17324279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: Even with studying and heavy workloads, it's gotten easy to slot himself into a cozy sort of something... maybe it's a fragile, unnameable something, but it's something. And right now, all Victor really needs is something to keep him sane until he knows his residency is secure.





	Just Let This Feeling Carry Me On

    Studying for the boards eclipses everything else for a while, but it doesn’t halt life in its tracks. Well, okay, it mostly does, but in addition to studying alone and studying with Wayne, there’s studying over dinner with Jack, when they get the chance for dinner.

 

    “My brain is going to leak out my ears.” Jack groans, slumping against Victor’s shoulder, disturbing both their lapfuls of notes and books, and everything they’ve got spread out around them on the couch. “Coffee?”

 

    “I’d love some.” Victor’s head drops back against the wall with a thud. He misses the weight of Jack against his shoulder, but he’s in no state to enjoy it. Or… well, anguish over it, he guesses. Whichever.

 

    “Little milk, little sugar?” Jack gets to his feet, hand bracing against Victor’s shoulder a moment as he does, which is just as nice, though it doesn’t last long.

 

    “Yeah, that’s perfect. Hey-- I was thinking… what if I brought over the Trivial Pursuit board?”

 

    “After all this?”

 

    “No-- I mean, what if we take all the flashcards we’ve been prepping, and we just use the board and the game pieces, but with the things we’re actually studying?” He looks up at Jack. “I get off pretty late the rest of this week, but if you were going to be up late cramming anyway… Might be a little more fun.”

 

    “We’d get to kind of keep track of right answers. Assign the colors to different types of questions? Yeah, it might feel a little less like slamming myself into a brick wall.”

 

    “Tell me about it, this whole thing has me so anxious…”

 

    “What have you got to be anxious about? Victor, you’re a shoe-in.”

 

    “You think? I’m just so nervous about it, what if I sit down and I forget everything? I mean I could really blow it.”

 

    “Craig’s not going to let them cut you if you do. He knows you know your stuff.” Jack promises, disappearing into the kitchen.

 

Victor organizes their notes as he waits for him, and then he gets up and drifts over to where Pete is sleeping.

 

    Almost a year old… it seems impossible. It seems like he was tiny not that long ago, and yet it seems like so much has happened in just one year… and just in the last few months of that, Victor’s learned how to fix bottles and change diapers and sway with a baby in his arms enough to soothe him… learned his capacity for caring for a tiny person.

 

    “Hey, I-- Hey.” Jack’s voice drops to something softer, as he comes to stand at Victor’s side, to hand over his cup of coffee. “What’s up?”

 

    “Nothing. His birthday’s coming up, right?”

 

    “Yeah. He’s growing up. A little young for a party-- he doesn’t know any other kids yet, and even if he did, he doesn’t care much about that… But I’ll get some photographs of him covered in cake, help him open some presents… He won’t remember, but I will. It’ll be something. After the boards. I’ll probably need the cheering up.”

 

    “You’ll do okay.”

 

    “I dunno.” Jack shrugs. “If you’re worried, I mean… Victor, you’re…”

 

    He sighs, turning away, and Victor follows him back to the couch, sits when Jack sits, knee to knee in silence a long, drawn-out moment.

 

    “I don’t know why you bother with me, to be honest.” He shakes his head, glancing up from his coffee to meet Victor’s eyes.

 

    “What do you mean?”

 

    “I mean you’re one of the smartest guys I know. And I’m… I’m not. And maybe I’m not good enough to be here. And everybody’s so worried about the cuts, but everybody else has done so much _more_ than I have… and I’m just kind of… dumb. I haven’t got any instincts for this. And here you are wasting your time with me, I don’t know.”

 

    “I don’t think that.” Victor’s hand goes to Jack’s knee. “I don’t think you’re dumb. I don’t think I’m wasting my time.”

 

    “What are you doing?” Jack asks, his own hand moving to Victor’s arm. He sounds so weary, Victor just wants to _hold him, kiss him, tell him you love him_ do something.

 

    “I don’t know.” He bites his lip. “Studying with you?”

 

    “Yeah, why?” Jack laughs, soft and sad and lost.

 

    “I like you.” He shrugs, and Jack squeezes his arm. “I just do. And you’re a nice guy, and you never give up on anybody, and you _do_ have instincts, and Jack, I-- I don’t think I’m wasting my time. I don’t think you are, either. I think if I can make it you can make it.”

 

    “We’ve been studying together, you’ve seen how hopeless I am.”

 

    “I think we all feel hopeless about now… I know I do, I get, I get really bad nerves, I can’t tell you it’s wrong to be nervous, but-- You know more than you think you know. And you’re a really good doctor. And if I was a patient, I’d want you to be the one looking out for me, really.”

 

    “Victor, you’ve been my patient.” Jack laughs. “You didn’t do any of the things I told you to do, either.”

 

    “I did them! Mostly-- a little bit, or eventually! But that’s what I’m saying! I mean, you did a good job.”

 

    “Anybody could have diagnosed and treated a sprained pinky.”

 

    “But not anybody would have made me feel better. You didn’t ever make me feel like I was stupid for getting hurt in the first place-- and don’t say anybody, okay? Don’t say anybody would have been that nice to me or treated me like a normal patient. Because you know that’s not true. I came in that day just sick over the trouble I’d get into and you had me put my head between my knees and breathe while you looked at it, and you walked with me when I went to catch up with the other surgical residents, and… I mean, you didn’t have to. You could have left me to face Doctor Craig alone and you didn’t. You never have to, but you always do. You always do more than you need to, to make people feel better. And I think that’s important. And I think St. Eligius is a better place because of you, and I mean that. I really do.”

 

    Jack’s eyes drop from his, though he doesn’t look down, either, just redirects his gaze more towards the vicinity of Victor’s mouth while he speaks.

 

    Fair, Victor thinks, because it’s one thing to hold eye contact while you’re just talking with people, but when the topic is heavy and everything is emotional, it’s a lot, you open yourself up to something, he gets it. Not wanting to turn away exactly but needing to close something of yourself off. Needing a little distance, emotionally if not physically. _How long has your hand been on his knee, talk about physical distance, what do you think you’re doing? Has your thumb been rubbing at him this whole time?_

 

    He halts the little circles he hadn’t realized he was making, and takes his hand back, wrapping it around his coffee mug as Jack’s hand falls away from his arm.

 

    “Thank you.” Jack says softly, retreating a little bit from the bubble of shared personal space they’d occupied. “I guess we should get back to it… it’s a little early for either of us to give up on ourselves.”

 

    “Oh-- sure. You want me to quiz you?”

 

    “I’d appreciate that.”

 

\---/-/---

 

    “You’re in too good a mood, you know that?” Wayne accuses.

 

    “How can you _say_ that? I’m in the middle of a complete mental and emotional breakdown here!” Victor whines, pulling his glasses off and letting his forehead thunk down against the open book in front of him.

 

    “Yeah, but when you’re _not_ in the middle of a breakdown, you walk around like everything’s going right for you.”

 

    “Well maybe it is.” He shrugs, lifting his head again.

 

    “With your luck? With your divorce? You could at least tell me who she is. I think it’s great you’re moving on and meeting someone new! Several someones new? I mean it’s something.”

 

    “It’s not like that.”

 

    “No? You don’t come into work whistling a jaunty tune because you got lucky the night before? You don’t get all antsy for the end of your shift some nights because you’ve got a hot date lined up?”

 

    “No. I don’t.”

 

    “I call bull. There’s at least one beautiful girl behind this good mood of yours, nothing else adds up.”

 

    “Will you cut it out? There’s nobody, it’s just me. Can I not just be happy alone? Is that not allowed anymore? I’m just… living for myself, free, unattached--”

 

    “So it’s several girls.”

 

    “It’s no girls! Okay, I can’t concentrate with this third degree--”

 

    “You weren’t concentrating without it.”

 

    “I’d better get back to work. I’ve got rounds. There’s not enough hours in the day for everything we’ve got to get through plus sleep, not with all this studying…” Victor pushes his chair back and gathers his stuff up. “I’ll catch you later, Wayne.”

 

    “I’m on call the rest of the night.” He nods, his own attention returning to his notes.

 

    It would feel nice to be able to say something, if he could say something. To Wayne, who’s his best friend, who’s noticed the shift in his mood, who’s cared about it, about him… or to anybody. To just have one person who’d understand if he wanted to share the things he’s been feeling.

 

    He’s barely through rounds when he gets paged down to the ER, where he’s supposed to find his aunt-- and he could maybe tell her, except… No. She wouldn’t think it was wrong, but she’d worry about him. She’d worry about the Crisis. She’d worry about his future. And she wouldn’t ever say anything about it on purpose, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t ever say anything.

 

    He likes having her visit, but with the boards, he doesn’t know how much time he’ll even get with her, he guesses it depends on how long she’s staying, he’s just sorry to be stuck at work the whole night, and off right away in the morning. Maybe if she wants to have breakfast together early…

 

    It’s not like her coming now interferes with anything else… he and Jack won’t get together again until after it’s all over, now, he doesn’t have to cancel _a date_ plans. Not a date, stupid to think of it like a date, they’d eventually do something, but they’ve had a few good study sessions and he and Wayne can cram in a little more while they’re on call and all, but…

 

    Well, it’s nice seeing her, but she’d definitely wind up blurting something out to somebody if he told her about _Jack_ being bisexual. He’s not sure _how_ she described The Incident to Dr. Ridley, but whatever she said must have come out worse than he thinks it should have. At best, she made it sound so deeply traumatizing that it might affect him even now… _Or she made you sound like a sociopath and now Ridley thinks you’re nuts_.

 

    Oh… oh no, what if she tells that story to anybody else? Who else was in the elevator, who else heard about that? It’s bad enough as it is _bad enough they wrote on your jacket_ , but if that story got around he’d never hear the end of it. The pig jokes would get so much _worse_ , and it wouldn’t even matter if he said something or not to bring it on, they’d be oinking in the hallways.

 

    He’s not sure how he’d survive it.

 

    But she doesn’t say anything about that in front of Doctor Craig, that’s what’s really important, and he appreciates that, he appreciates her wanting to come make him feel better after everything, even if he can’t tell her about _Jack_ every part of his life, even if he’s a lot more worried about the boards right now than he is upset over Roberta.

 

    The important thing is she’d wanted to be there for him, after all. She’s always been there for him, or at least she’s always wanted to, and he doesn’t know how his life would have been with anybody else raising him… Oh, sure, probably his life would have been better if his parents could have been alive and could have raised him, but barring that, if it wasn’t for his aunt, where would he have gone and what would he have done and what would he be like now? And he’d been a mess, too, when she’d gotten him, when she’d first gotten him. He barely spoke for a month, and she just let him. She didn’t ask him to buck up and smile or even look at her, the only thing she really asked out of him that first month was that he not bang his head into the wall while he cried, and honestly he thinks that’s pretty fair. She let him cry it out and adjust to his new life. She’d brought home ‘Surfer Girl’ because she thought it would cheer him up, his first record, just purely his and not something that had belonged to his parents that he’d just wound up with when he’d wound up with the old family record player in his room. Between bed, desk, dresser, and the big old record player they’d had in the living room back home, his old home, his room had been pretty crowded, but it had been his. He’d never felt for a moment like he didn’t belong.

 

    He wishes he could tell her what’s really on his mind beyond the boards, but she’d worry. She’d worry and she’d cry, not because she wouldn’t support him but because she’d see so much to worry about, and he doesn’t want their visit to be about worrying, or crying, and he definitely doesn’t want to be sitting in the cafeteria with his aunt and Dr. Craig only for her to burst out with something she meant not to say or didn’t realize she shouldn’t say, and then it wouldn’t matter if he passed his exam or not, would it?

 

    He’s just seen her off when he sees Jack, down in the lobby, bag over his shoulder, and when he waves, Jack detours from his path towards the door, his hand going to Victor’s elbow to steer him to take a seat out of the way.

 

    “Are you heading out? I thought you were here late.”

 

    “Seeing my aunt off. You just missed her.”

 

    “Oh, you’ll have to introduce me another time. I didn’t know she was visiting.”

 

    “I didn’t know she was visiting! She picked a time for it, huh? But-- it’s okay. She said she’d come pick me up in the morning… she didn’t say what time. I guess after the boards I’ll have a little more time. What about you, what’s the matter?”

 

    He hadn’t actually thought about something being the matter with Jack up until the words were out of his mouth, but once they are, he sees it. Not the anxiety of the looming exam, but something gnawing at him. Something that lifted a little when Victor had caught his eye and he’d smiled at him, but he’d been… There had been something, there’s something.

 

    “It’s nothing. I don’t… I don’t think, at least. Tired, I guess. Nothing’s making sense to me.”

 

    “Were you at the mortality conference?”

 

    “That’s not it-- I mean, yeah. It was a pretty rough one, you were lucky skipping out on it. No, it’s… it’s… Peter got off. Something he said about it just doesn’t make sense to me.”

 

    “Off on everything?” Victor frowns. Tries not to, that’s Jack’s friend _his best friend, better than you_ and he doesn’t want to argue about it, but… Wayne _saw_ him, even if Jack’s right and there’s someone else running around doing most of it, someone who got scared and backed off when White got caught, no matter how much of what happened with Wendy was a misunderstanding going too far, he did grab her, he did hurt her. Even if he didn’t mean to, he did.

 

    “Yeah. So… so that’s over now, but… I don’t know. It’s not important. I don’t even know why I’m being weird about things.”

 

    “You know, Jack…”

 

    “Yeah, I know. We disagree on the subject, it’s okay. I-- I gotta go. I gotta pick up my kid. But-- Hey, I’m glad I saw you on my way out.”

 

    “You are?”

 

    Jack nods, and his hand returns to Victor’s arm even as he gets to his feet. “Yeah. In case I don’t get the chance to wish you good luck in the morning.”

 

    Victor hops up from his seat, grabs hold of Jack’s elbow in return. “Oh-- well, good luck! I mean-- you’re going to do fine! I mean-- but good luck anyway.”

 

    “Good luck anyway.” Jack nods. “Not because you need it.”

 

    “I need it every day of my life.”

 

    Jack laughs and gives his arm a squeeze before letting go. “Well, good luck, then.”

 

    “Jack-- I just wanted to say-- It doesn’t make you a bad friend if you have doubts sometimes, or if you’re not always one hundred percent sure, it-- it’s okay if you sometimes wonder, it doesn’t mean you aren’t… Well. I just wanted to say. I don’t-- I mean-- Well. You are who you are, even when not everything adds up and you feel like you’re not.”

 

    He lets his own hand slip away from Jack, his gaze dropping to the floor.

 

    “Anyway.” He adds. “Anyway, I’m glad I saw you. And you’re going to be okay, and I believe that.”

 

    “I know you do-- you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t. You never do.”

 

    He feels something at that. He doesn’t know how to name it, he just knows it’s there, at the idea that Jack thinks of him as someone honest, someone he can trust. That even with all of Victor’s attempts at being someone better than he thinks he is, and all his attempts at sounding like everyone else, Jack knows he wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean if it was important, if it was personal. That he wouldn’t lie to him even to make him feel better. That he likes feeling it, the idea of Jack’s faith in anything about himself. He can’t define anything about this moment, he just knows there’s warmth in it.

 

    “In a couple days… What if I come over? I mean-- I don’t know what exactly you have planned, but I could get a little time. I could trade someone just an hour or so to get over before Pete’s bedtime. You know, bring him something. Even if I have to head back over here right away, I could…”

 

    “Oh, you don’t have to-- I mean, yeah. Come over. Even just for a minute, we’d love that. You don’t need to buy him something.”

 

    “No, it’s done, I have, I really wanted to.”

 

    He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to read into the look Jack gives him, the long moment they seem to spend just looking at each other, as Victor has no idea what else to say or do, and Jack seems just as much at a loss.

 

    “Well, you’re welcome to come over any time, but if you can’t make it on his birthday, he’ll be here with me. If you can’t get your shifts switched, you can come and spend some time with him. You could still come over later if you wanted to. Eat some leftover cake with me.”

 

    “Oh, sure. Well-- okay. I’ll see what I can manage. Good to know I can still give him his present if I can’t get off until late. And-- yeah, I’ll still come over, if you want me. Want me to. I’d like that.”

 

    “Yeah, please. Well, I guess I’d better go and pick him up, it’s pretty late for him…”

 

    “Right, don’t let me keep you.” Victor nods, waving as Jack splits off for the door. Jack turns and waves back, just a little, and it sets the butterflies off in Victor’s stomach for how small a gesture it is.

 

    He has to get back to work… he can’t stand around any more than Jack can. There’s a lot he has to do before he can let himself slow down for anything… but the idea of being welcome at Jack’s place keeps him buoyed through it despite the nerves.

 

    “This is what I mean about that good mood.” Wayne says, when they catch up with each other in the ER.

 

    “What are you talking about?” Victor winces, carefully levering himself onto a recently-vacated bed. “Get over here, help me check to make sure that guy didn’t rupture anything important.”

 

    “That little rabbit punch? I’ve seen you take worse in the line of duty.” Wayne says, but he still comes over and prods at Victor’s midsection. “You’re not hurt, you big baby.”

 

    “Oh, nice. This is the tender, loving care you dispense to all your patients?”

 

    “Just the ones who lie to me about their love lives, as if I’m not the best and most trustworthy buddy a guy could ask for. A really good listener. A real friend. You come waltzing in here like the happiest guy in the world, knowing full well your luck with the ER, and you’re still going to tell me it’s for no reason. Quite frankly, I’m hurt.”

 

    “If I had something I could tell you about, I would. Have I ever not told you about a girl before? Have I ever not told _everybody_ about a girl before?”

 

    “There’s a first time for everything. Victor, I know what you’re like when you’re in love. You’re rebounding hard and fast, pal, it’s written all over your face. If anything, you’re worse than with Roberta.”

 

    “It’s not like--”

 

    “Not like that, yeah.”

 

    “Well it’s not.” He shrugs, getting up. “And who I may or may not have feelings for isn’t important, because we’re not-- because I’m not-- Nothing’s going to happen, so it doesn’t matter.”

 

    “You can’t give me a name? Do I know her? Is she here at the hospital? She’s got to be here at the hospital.”

 

    “Don’t you have to look at patients or something?”

 

    “Slow night in the ER. If we don’t get another one in the next…” Wayne checks his watch. “Ten minutes, I’m knocking off to hit the books.”

 

    “Well, I’ll join you. But only if you keep the questions relevant, I don’t want any distractions when we’re studying, and there’s nothing else I can tell you about my non-existent love life.”

 

\---/-/---

 

    He’s pretty sure the exam was a disaster. Granted, he did feel that way all through university, and he was never below the top five on any given exam, but this is different, this isn’t school anymore, it’s life, and… and he came in late and he dropped everything and he’d been so preoccupied because of Aunt Charice…

 

    He’s not exactly sure why she thinks he’s going to drop dead at age sixty, and he does not want to think about her love life at _all_ , and he really doesn’t understand why she had to leave so soon and why she seems to think he shouldn’t care about spending time with her or… or whatever point she had been trying to make. He hadn’t been able to think about what she was saying then, when he had to get to his exam, but then once he was there, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Whoop it up?

 

    He doesn’t want to do that, exactly. He doesn’t want to be alone, but…

 

    Well, it’s not like he could have talked to her about it if she’d stayed. There’s no way to ask advice properly when he can’t say everything, he’d known he couldn’t do that… He couldn’t say he was spending time with someone when there’s no future in it, and he doesn’t think going over to a guy’s house to cook for him and organize his cassette tapes and play with his baby and study is at all what she meant when she told him to get out there and live.

 

    He has to fight not to spend the day in a highly anxious fog, and he’s not sure he succeeds, but at least after the exam, everyone’s in about the same highly anxious fog. And at least he can snap out of it for his patients.

 

    He doesn’t catch up with Jack at all the day of, but he finds him with Pete the day after-- had probably attracted stares rushing through the hospital with the gift and a hastily-bought balloon from down in the gift shop, one of the few not to say ‘Get Well Soon’.

 

    “Hi, honey!” He greets, heading straight for the playpen once he sees Jack and Pete are there. Pete’s attention immediately goes to the balloon, but he figures that’s not much of a slight.

 

    “Hi.” Jack laughs, scooping Pete up and letting him reach for it. “Hey, hey, look what Uncle Victor brought you.”

 

    “Was the balloon a mistake, is he going to like that more than the present? Okay, so you’ll be happy to know, I thought about what you said about surfing lessons, and I didn’t get him a little tiny wetsuit.”

 

    “Very thoughtful.”

 

    “We’ll talk tiny wetsuits when you’re two.” He says to Pete, in a stage whisper.

 

    “You wanna take him for a moment?”

 

    “Can I?” Victor sets the gift bag down carefully and ties the balloon to the playpen, before taking Pete from Jack. “Oh, hey there, birthday boy, look how big you are!”

 

    “Yeah, he’s getting big.” Jack smiles, ruffling Pete’s hair, moving in the same bouncy sway that Victor is even though he’s not currently the one holding the baby. “Soon he’s gonna be walking, talking… he’s working on it, he’s getting there.”

 

    “Yeah? You getting there? Way to go, champ. How’s that talking coming?”

 

    “Ubbuh!” Pete answers, patting one hand against Victor’s shoulder, then his face.

 

    “Glad to hear it.” He laughs, kissing the top of his head before passing him back.

 

    “Well, it’s mostly ‘dada’, ‘baba’... He doesn’t have ending consonants yet-- I mean I think that’s normal-- but he knows the word ‘up’, even if it doesn’t come out that way. A few things are pretty consistent. Hey, come on, buddy, you want to open your present from Uncle Victor?”

 

    He returns Pete to the playpen and Victor hands the bag over, though that’s enough of a novelty that it takes a minute before Pete looks inside past the tissue paper-- eventually Jack bends down to help, pulling out the plush beluga whale.

 

    “Oh, look at that! Say thank you, Uncle Victor. Look at that, buddy, you got a new friend… you got a whale.”

 

    “I thought it was cute. Plus it’s like the song, so...”

 

    “Oh, you’ve been around us long enough to learn the kids’ songs…” Jack straightens up, leaving Pete to explore exactly where on the whale he can get a grip, and whether or not it’s a particularly good thing to put in his mouth.

 

    “One or two of ‘em.” Victor shrugs. He doesn’t think he could stop smiling if he tried, it’s a million miles from the dread he’d felt before he came into on call and saw the two of them.

 

    “What’s your schedule look like tonight?”

 

    He shakes his head. “I get off at ten.”

 

    Jack nods, hands in his pockets, and Victor figures that’s the end of it, and it’s not like he didn’t get to see Pete open his present, and it’s not like he won’t go over another time, but then Jack goes to his locker, grabbing the keyring from his bag and pulling one off.

 

    “Well, come over if you want.” He presses it into Victor’s hand. “I might be passed out on the sofa by then, but…”

 

    “Oh, sure, you take care of the baby and then I come put you to bed.”

 

    “Yeah, if you want to.” Jack shrugs, with a little smile, and Victor reviews his words and wonders if the floor might be good enough to swallow him.

 

    Although, in a lifetime of embarrassing moments, it’s never been so obliging before.

 

    “I mean, not that you--” He starts, hesitates, strangled by a nervous laugh. “Well. Yeah. I mean, maybe. I could stop by. I wouldn’t be much company…”

 

    “You could stay over, then. I mean, if you want. If you’re too tired. You can hold onto that key, just in case.”

 

    “Really? Hold onto it hold onto it?”

 

    Jack nods. “I’m trying to be careful about who I hand that over to.”

 

    “And you think me…?”

 

    “I think the first time I gave you a key to my place, you took care of my kid and made me dinner, and I think the worst thing that could happen if I ask you to keep it is that I might come home and find you re-organizing my kitchen.”

 

    “Oh, I think your kitchen is pretty organized, actually! Very logical. You might find me doing a deep clean on your stove and backsplash.”

 

    A smile spreads across Jack’s face, and he shrugs and releases Victor’s hand, only to pat his arm. “Well, there you go, then. There are worse things you could do.”

 

    “I might do that, actually. Now that we’re just waiting on the results, I need to stress-clean. You wouldn’t mind?”

 

    “I wouldn’t mind.”

 

    “Well, I-- I’ll come over.” He sways in closer, just a little. “I’d like that.”

 

    “Good. So would I. You come in for some sleep?”

 

    “Just to see you. I mean, you know, give Pete his present.” He shakes his head. “I actually ought to get back out there. There’s a lecture in a few minutes I’d better not be late to. But I’ll see you!”

 

    “Yeah. See you.”

 

    “Bye, champ, I’ll see you, too.” Victor leans over the playpen, reaching down to gently tousle Pete’s hair. He gets a moment of eye contact and some babbling directed his way, before Pete’s eyes are back on the balloon and his mouth is back on the whale. “Okay, you tell me all about your day next time we catch up. Sounds great.”

 

    He heads to his lecture, with notebook in hand and with Jack’s key clipped onto his own keyring, and how he manages to pay attention is a mystery to him, but he mostly avoids Dr. Craig’s wrath. Mostly.

 

    He gets the chance to see Jack and Pete off, and despite having spent most of the day out of Jack’s company, the hours he spends working after they’ve gone feel longer than the hours spent just knowing they were in the same building.

 

    It’s stupid. Really it is. It’s just four hours of his shift, it’s not as if he would have likely talked to him if he was around, it’s just… it makes a difference. He knew he was in trouble before, but this…

 

    He avoids giving Wayne too much undistracted time to observe him in this new pining state, he doesn’t want to hear what he’d make of it, how well he can see through him. He doesn’t want to know. More importantly, he doesn’t want Wayne to figure out the shifts in his mood and how they line up with Jack Morrison. Would he notice? If he did piece it all together, what would he say? What would he think? It’s one thing to say there’s nothing wrong with a hypothetical stranger being a ‘confirmed bachelor’, it’s something different to look at a guy you spend big chunks of your time with, to say ‘you think you know a guy’... to find out one of your best friends is some kind of way over a man and to have to feel some kind of way about that.

 

    In the end, it’s not Wayne who catches him heading out for the night, but Shirley.

 

    “Hot date tonight, Ehrlich?” She teases, leaning over the counter of the ER admittance.

 

    “Just with a stove that needs cleaning.” He shakes his head. In his pocket, his hand is wrapped around his keys, Jack’s key. “What about you, any plans?”

 

    “I could never go home after a long day on my feet in the ER and look forward to cleaning my stove…”

 

    “What can I say? It helps me unwind. And until we hear back about the exam results, I need to unwind.”

 

    “You’ll do fine.” She laughs. “Have fun with your stove. See you in the morning.”

 

    It feels almost as natural as going home, to take the train to Jack’s neighborhood instead, to half-jog the last block to his door. And now, to let himself in, like he had the first time Jack asked him to borrow the key, to pick up Pete.

 

    Jack is asleep on the sofa, music on, soft, Pete lying on his chest… Victor locks the door behind and hangs up his coat, moving to the chair. Watches Jack’s face in sleep, Pete’s, the way he rises and falls with Jack’s breathing, and stirs a little in his sleep. Round rosy cheek smushed up against the soft-looking flannel of Jack’s shirt. Must be comforting, having his dad’s heartbeat to listen to… babies like a heartbeat. Nine months you spend constantly having a heart beating somewhere over you, and you spend so much of the following months held against somebody’s chest, and it must be natural and soothing… must feel right, to settle in with that rhythm.

 

    _And you’re a little jealous_.

 

    No. Ridiculous. He’s not jealous of a baby, for starters. He’s not that petty.

 

    And… and he knows it’s soothing, to lie on Jack’s couch with Pete on his chest, he knows that from experience, but he’s not jealous of Jack, either, it’s not that. Yes, he likes holding Pete and relaxing under the warm weight of him when he’s sleepy. Yes, okay, and he wants to lie down with Jack, and listen to his heart, and be held by him, but that doesn’t mean he’s _jealous_. On either count.

 

    More than any of that, looking at them, he wishes it was his place to walk in that door every night, to come and kiss them both, to put Pete to bed, take Jack to bed. To stay with him.

 

    Pete starts fussing, and Jack wakes up with him, flashing Victor a smile when he rises and comes to take Pete so he can get up.

 

    Jack leans in, still seated on the couch, while Victor holds Pete, checking his diaper. “Dry, just fussy. How long have you been here?”

 

    “Not long. I’ve got him. Does he want a bottle?”

 

    “He’ll ask for it if he really wants it, but he’s got some water there… Just walk him around a little, sometimes he just needs that. A little attention so he can settle back down and feel okay. You want me to put some coffee on?”

 

    “Sure.” Victor smiles, getting Pete settled against him so that he can gently bounce him a little as they walk around the room. “I’d like that. Keep me going through that stove cleaning.”

 

    “You know you don’t have to--”

 

    “Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to it. Gotta do something to be able to sleep.”

 

    “Okay, well…” Jack comes over, kissing the back of Pete’s head. “I saved you a piece of cake, you’ll find it on the counter-- one with no handprints. Whenever you need a break from that stove, have a piece of cake and a cup of coffee. Stay here tonight? I’ve already been out on the couch, I can make the bed up for you. I can’t have you come over at ten thirty at night and clean my stove and then just go home… sounds exhausting.”

 

    _Yes, Jack, I would love to sleep in your bed._

 

    “Oh, I couldn’t. Really. Well-- I mean the couch is fine.”

 

    _Victor, you asshole, you dummy._

 

    “You sure?”

 

    “It’s, uh… yeah, it’s fine.”

 

    “I really don’t mean to take you away from your bed so much.”

 

    “Oh, that’s okay, my bed hasn’t got a lot to recommend it.” He laughs nervously.

 

    “It’s hard, isn’t it?” Jack nods, his hand brushing over Victor’s where it rests at Pete’s back, keeping him secure. “Being alone, sometimes.”

 

    “I don’t know. I mean… I was only married a couple weeks. We, uh… we were mostly pretty, you know, pretty… old-fashioned, about waiting. Barely got used to it, but… but it’s nice not being alone. It was nice. Well… it would have been nice, it was-- I thought it would be, it was almost. With the right person, I guess. I don’t know. But… some nights it’s nice, not to go home alone.”

 

    “Well, you can always come over. It’s nice not to be alone. I mean, have another adult around to talk to, it’s… I appreciate it. And I get it, Victor, you’re-- The divorce is still a new thing, you’re adjusting.”

 

    “I don’t know why it’s this complicated… I keep thinking it should be over, and there’s just… more. She’s gone, shouldn’t it be over? But it’s not. That’s the part that gets me.”

 

    Jack nods, and even though their situations are about as different as it gets, for both finding themselves suddenly less married than they used to be, there’s some kind of deep understanding in his eyes, that’s almost too much to look at. It’s like staring into a very compassionate sun.

 

    “Yeah. And I get it, I think… I think it’s normal, if she still has a hold on you.”

 

    “A hold on me.” Victor snorts. “Maybe that’s the best way to put it in mixed company. I mean, she has me over a barrel. I think about the girl I met and… I don’t see her at all, in any of this. If she wasn’t happy and she had to leave I guess… I guess that’s one thing and I can’t fault her for that, but she’s… I mean, and I’d pay alimony if she needed it, I’d find a way I guess, but she _doesn’t_ , not if she’s with her folks, you’ve got no idea, Jack, how rich these people are, I-- So why-- I mean, Wayne said I should have signed a pre-nup, but… that’s so unromantic, don’t you think? I didn’t want to get married with a parachute, I didn’t want to plan on failing. Maybe he’s right. But things were different then.”

 

    “I don’t think you were wrong to want to believe in something. Who wants to think romance is dead?” Jack shrugs, patting Victor’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath, looking around the room before his focus lands back on Victor and Pete. “I mean… I think when we’re both ready to move on…There’s something to be said for second chances. And we both thought our lives would go one way, but… now that we’re here, we-- Well. When we’re ready for what comes next, it could be something good. Right?”

 

    Victor’s heart clenches. Moving on… Someday they’ll all expect him to move on. How can he do that now? Now that he’s uncovered his feelings for Jack, now that he’s learned what it is to take care of Pete, to be… to be part of things here? How does he pretend he wants to chase the same kinds of things he always went after before? And how will he handle losing Jack when he moves on? He won’t get to do this forever… no, Jack will want to remarry, someday, and when he does, what kind of wife would she be if she didn’t take one look at Victor and know exactly what was going on with him, know she didn’t want him around her family? Some weirdo coming into your home to cook and clean and organize your stuff, and get all warm and dizzy when your husband touches his arm even just by accident? They’d see each other at work, maybe once in a while they’d go out and get a drink, they could sit together in the cafeteria, sure, but this… it would all go away, if they moved on. There wouldn’t be anymore of this, of saying they’re just two guys who used to be married and now they could use some company now and then, it… it would all be different.

 

    “Sure.” He swallows, bouncing a once-more-fussy Pete. “When we’re ready for what comes next, yeah. I mean… there’s no rush for that, I guess.”

 

    “No. No rush.” Jack says, and his smile is so warm, and that clenching around his heart relaxes. Jack isn’t in any hurry to be with someone, Victor can still occupy the little gaps left in his life without a… a real wife, a real lover. All the things he can’t be to him, that he tries not to think too much about. They’ll have their dinners, he’ll tidy when he doesn’t want to just go home alone and he needs something to ease his mind. Pete… he can help look after Pete when he’s over, at least, or when he can get a shift free at a time Jack can’t.

 

    “I mean… I mean I like my life how it is, mostly. Mostly, I really do. We-- we have our thing and… I’m having a good time. I don’t… I don’t feel like I’m missing anything right now. Maybe-- maybe I need to not rush. Put the past behind me, focus on the now.”

 

    “I’m having a good time, too. I was-- I was going to make you some coffee.” Jack touches his side just briefly. “You okay holding onto him?”

 

    “Yeah. He’s great. We’ll be just fine.”

 

    “Okay. Be good for Uncle Victor, sweetheart.” Jack gives Pete another kiss before heading for the kitchen.

 

    Victor walks Pete back over towards the stereo, swaying him along to the music a few beats before coming in with it to sing to him-- and Pete focuses in on him when he does, with a little laugh, bouncing himself in Victor’s arms.

 

    “And honey, you’ll always be the only one for me, meeting you was my destiny… you can be sure, I will never let you down, when you need me I will be around, and darling you’ll always be the only one for me, heaven made you specially…” He croons. “Could it be I’m falling in love, with you baby?”

 

    His voice dies away a little, as he tries to encourage a little less bouncing and a little more thinking about going back to sleep, guiding Pete down to rest against his shoulder and craning his neck to kiss the top of his head when he does. He’d miss this, too… it wouldn’t only be losing his place in Jack’s life, the frequent dinners and the closeness. He might still get to be Uncle Victor, but it wouldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t be _here_ , wouldn’t be changing diapers, singing lullabies...

 

    Pete babbles sleepily, but with a little gentle urging, he settles down just fine… lets Victor rock him in his arms without fuss or protest.

 

    He makes a slow turn, still swaying slightly, only to see Jack leaning in the open archway between kitchen and living room.

 

    “Coffee’s brewing.” He says softly, coming to meet Victor as the final chorus plays. “I’ll take him. Think we can make the transfer without waking him?”

 

    “Sure.” Victor nods. “Sure.”

 

    Jack comes in close, his hand sliding between Pete and Victor’s chest, easing him up from Victor’s shoulder and back against himself-- without disturbing the sleep Pete’s managed to get back to.

 

    “You’re really good with him.”

 

    “Really?”

 

    “Yeah. I mean look at him, he’s out like a light.” Jack kisses Pete’s temple, sways with him a little longer without turning towards the playpen to put him down just yet, but it does seem like pretty solid sleep. “Wish I could just drop off like that, with how little sleep we get sometimes… I’m no good at sleeping alone, that’s my problem. Even in on call, I think I do better if someone else is there. Just to hear someone breathing…”

 

    “If I’m real wound up and I can’t do anything-- you know, cleaning or anything-- I put the radio on sometimes.” Victor nods. “Though once or twice I’ve been tired enough to just pass out. But… you know…”

 

    “Yeah. Once you hit that point where you couldn’t stay awake if you tried, it doesn’t feel like much even when you do sleep…”

 

    “Well. I’m going to go clear my head with that stove.”

 

    “Sure. You won’t take the bed?”

 

    “I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

 

    There’s a pause, a look flickering across Jack’s face that he can’t read, before Jack nods. “I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket out here. Victor? You know the stove doesn’t need to get clean, whenever you feel like you can lie down and get some sleep, just sleep.”

 

    “Okay. Thanks. I mean I like doing it--”

 

    “Yeah, I know. But you can always come back and finish the job another night when you run out of things to clean at home. I mean… I don’t need it to be-- I mean, I’m gonna feel guilty, you doing all this for me and all I do is let you sleep on a lumpy couch…”

 

    “You do a lot for me.” Victor shakes his head. “And your couch is a lot more comfortable than some couches I’ve slept on. Mine included, actually. Once or twice.”

 

    “Okay.” Jack smiles, it’s suddenly so bright and so warm Victor doesn’t know what to do about it, except to jerk a thumb back towards the kitchen and awkwardly make his exit, return it with an unsure grin of his own.

 

    But that’s why he’s got the stove to scrub clean, it’s going to smoothe out all his worries. It’s going to make this all easier to sort through.

 

    Jack joins him after a few minutes, and fixes them each a cup of coffee, and they don’t really talk, he just hangs out while Victor works a little more.

 

    “I made up the couch for you.” He says, when Victor does sit down for cake and coffee. “In the morning I figure we’ll swing by your place so you can shower and change. Go into work together.”

 

    “Sure.” He nods, stomach rolling over at the thought. Going in to work together. It’s not like anyone would question it. Even if they did, even if someone asked, it’s not like anything happened, it’s not like anything’s happening, he just… he has feelings, but no one can punish him for feelings! Not when they don’t _do_ anything!

 

    Jack’s just a nice guy, that’s all, a nice guy who’s a single father and so Victor’s being a nice guy helping out when he has the chance, what’s wrong with that? Anyone would, or they should, Jack certainly deserves it. Only Victor’s not that nice, he guesses, because he’s doing it for selfish reasons, because he wants to be close to Jack, wants to spend time taking care of Pete, wants to feel like he’s part of a happy little family sometimes, like he’s not a screw-up destined to be alone, like…

 

    Maybe Jack can’t love him, but for now, until they have to ‘move on’, he has this.


End file.
